Memento Mori
by Vermin Disciple
Summary: A mysterious message appears on a blackboard, the dead rise from their graves, and Sam's world is inexplicably rendered in verse. Warning - herein lies poetry, Latin, and zombies.


**A/N:** This was originally written for the Zombie Challenge at the LJ community 1973flashfic. This is probably the strangest thing I've ever written. This site refuses to retain my formatting, so if you'd prefer to read it with its original formatting (and with the two translational footnotes html coded for more convenient navigation), it's also posted at my LJ and at AO3, both of which are linked to in my profile.

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Memento Mori

_There was a man, whose name was Sam_

_And he came from the land of What I Am_

_To the land of What I'll Be_

_He loved the girls and he loved the boys_

_And he loved to play with all their toys_

_Running too fast, making too much noise_

_In the land of What Should Be_

_But Sam didn't know – couldn't know – wouldn't know_

_Of things that were stirring deep down below_

_All ready to reap what he did sow _

_In the land of Feel To Be_

_Even here there are rules – _

_For kings, for fools_

_There are rules for here and there_

_There are rules for you and rules for he, _

_Rules in the sea of memory_

_Lost in a fall through the air_

xxx

Sam instructed Ray to escort their prisoner back to his cell, fully aware that Ray would probably throw him in on his head and kick it in for good measure, and not caring in the slightest.

It had not been a good day.

He stood for a moment at the door to Lost and Found, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips, going over the crime scene in his mind's eye, searching for whatever scrap of evidence they might have missed.

It was time to go bounce some ideas off Gene; hopefully, Gene's earlier bad mood had dissipated enough that he wouldn't try to bounce Sam off anything. He set out for Gene's office.

Gene, however, was not in his office, and his current mood was entirely unreadable. He was staring at a blackboard that had been rolled out in front of the rows of desks. For a moment, it looked like Gene was in the midst of setting up a presentation on police methodology, contemplating the board with arms crossed, fag sticking out the corner of his mouth. Though if that was the case, then the day had taken a turn from bad to what was technically referred to as bizarro upside-down world.

Then he noticed what was written on the board.

"What's this, then?" he asked, frowning at the words.

"Weren't there a minute ago. Just appeared," said Gene, pulling the cigarette from his lips and blowing smoke across the freshly laid chalk.

**videris esse tu mortuus, at mortuus es non.**

**Si non mortuus es tu, nemo est. omnis vivent **[1]

"What do you think it says?" Sam asked.

"Do I look like some noncy public school tosser? You're the resident know-it-all. _You_ tell _us_ what it says."

"No idea," Sam snapped. "I've never studied L—"

Sam's mouth was still open, but no words were coming out.

"Well, spit it out, Lucretia."

_Sam stopped, and stared, and stared some more_

_His heart froze cold with dread _

_For though he could not read the words,_

_He still knew what they said_

_What game was this? What sorcery?_

_What whispered in his head?_

_As apprehension dawned within_

_He turned his heel and fled_

xxx

Annie nearly bumped into Sam in the hall – or rather, he nearly ran straight into her, without so much as an 'excuse me.'

What had got into him this time?

She opened the door he had just flown out of like a bird escaping a cat, only to find the Guv standing there, hand reaching for the knob.

"Oh! Sorry, Sir. Didn't know you were there."

"Didn't stop him, then," he said, pulling his hand back and glaring at her, like it was her fault Sam had done something mental again.

"Should I have?" she asked, cautiously.

"Who can tell with him. God knows I never know what to do with the mouthy sod."

"Did you, er, have a disagreement again, sir?" she asked, even more cautiously. Everyone in CID knew by now that it was best to stay out of the famous Tyler-Hunt squabbles, unless absolutely necessary.

"Didn't even get started," said the Guv. Abruptly, he turned and strode back across the room, leaving Annie scurrying in his wake. "One minute, we're trying to work out what ponce left this bit of nob graffiti, next, he's tearing out of here like his arse is on fire. He said he couldn't even read the bloody thing!"

"Well," said Annie, examining the message, "I think it says something about death." She caught Gene's eye and blushed. "It was – I mean – it's been a while, sir. I don't remember very much." Then, "I remember that old poem better than any of the actual Latin."

"Poem?" said Gene, stony-faced. Annie felt her blush deepening.

"You know. 'Latin's a dead language, dead as dead can be. First it killed the Romans, now it's killing me.'"

"Don't know about killing, but someone's going to get a good kicking if I don't work out what's going on, right quick."

"Er, I'll just go after Sam, then, shall I? Maybe calm him down enough to tell us what spooked him?"

"Yeah, nice calming game of hide the gladius, I'll wager," he said, leering. "Tell him if he wants to be a real detective one day, he'd best stop being frightened by chalk." His tone was light but beneath the glare he looked rather – he looked – worried. She was almost sure of it.

"Yes, sir," she said, turning to leave. Then she paused. "Gladius, sir?"

"You and Tyler aren't the only ones who know how to read around here, Flashknickers. Just don't go spreading it about."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Guv."

xxx

_Out of the door and down the hall_

_Trip, push, and down the stairs_

_Dizzy and woozy and breathing hard_

_Filled up with fearful cares_

_He knew not where he was heading_

_Though it did pull and call_

_Like a voice in the darkness crying_

'_Sam, help us! Help us all!" _

_The test card fiend appeared in flesh_

_Beside him on his way_

_She smiled a smile that locked his limbs_

_And only then did say:_

**solitarius es, tamen solitarius es non**

**perdebas tuos amicos, appariebas **[2]

_Her words were like a gushing wound_

_That blackened as it bled_

_For though he could not speak the words_

_He knew what she had said_

_Before he could say anything_

_She'd left without a sound_

_But she'd stopped him here with reason _

_He turned and looked around_

_For every headstone, every cross_

_His head did throb and ache_

_Every thought hurt him like a knife _

_For this was no mistake_

_And as the truth clawed into his eyes_

_The earth began to shake_

xxx

Picking up Sam's trail wasn't too difficult, at first. He wasn't exactly inconspicuous. It was all, "DI Tyler? Saw him running down the stairs not a moment ago," and "Short-haired bloke? Quite the speed-demon?"

Then she found herself outside, blinking in the sunlight. Sam was nowhere to be seen.

"Bugger," she said.

Something tugged her jacket, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. "Sorry, love," she said, looking down at the small hand, and the small, blonde, red-clad little girl it was attached to. "I didn't see you there. You haven't seen a man run past here, have you?"

The girl grinned at her. For some reason, she had to stop herself from shuddering.

"I know where he said he'd be!" said the girl. "He's going to the cemetery!"

A chill ran up her spine. "Thank you," she said. It felt like a lie.

Annie could feel the girl smiling behind her, but she dared not turn back to check.

xxx

_Two skeleton hands pulled at his feet _

_The first to rend the earth_

_Two bodies slithered from the mud _

_A parody of birth_

_Mr. and Mrs. Williams stood_

_Before him, rags and bones_

_While noise all 'round him plagued his ears_

_Squelches and cracks and groans_

"_The life you live is not your own,"_

_Said a voice thick with decay_

_Sam Williams headed up the horde_

_Skin smooth but cold as clay_

_The smell lay dense in the rotten air_

_As dead men lumbered through _

_Mouths choking on maggots and dirt and slime_

_And dripping with grimy goo_

_Closer and closer, and all around_

_Staggering closer still_

_Reaching and grasping to slash and tear_

_He felt their frightful chill _

_Suddenly Annie tore through the mob_

_Yelling "Sam, is that you I see?_

_We've got to run or we're surely done_

_So please, Sam, come with me!"_

_But it wasn't he that reached the hand_

_With which he might not drown_

_He could only witness, horrified_

_As Sam Williams dragged her down_

_The crowd closed in, Sam's knees gave out_

_He gave an anguished cry_

_As teeth sank in, nails scratched and clawed_

_And Sam lay down to die_

xxx

"Oi! Dosy Dolores! Get up you lazy git." He felt a jolt, as if the couch had just received a hard kick. "Does this look like a tart's boudoir to you?"

"If you were a tart, Guv," Sam observed, blinking blearily up at him, "you'd have tossed me out by my knackers before I even got my eyes closed."

He sat up, stretched, and yawned – not necessarily in that order.

"On the job and all," said Gene. "And you're the one who's always going on about 'professionalism.'"

"If it's any consolation, I didn't sleep well."

Sam stepped out of Gene's office, heart still hammering like it wanted to be let outside. To his relief (stupid, really), the blackboard was nowhere in sight, and Annie was sitting at her desk poring over case files.

Hello, Annie," he said, greeting her more warmly than the situation warranted, but resisting the impulse to hug her.

She returned his smile.

"I'm glad you're up now, Sleepy-head

We'll need your firm resolve

A family of three has turned up dead

And we've a case to solve!"

xxx

_Here ends our story of Sam I am_

_And whether this tale be truth or sham_

_And whether he's saved, or whether he's damned_

_I shall leave it up to you._

_Finis_

xxx

Latin translations:

[1] You seem to be dead, but you are not dead. If you are not dead, no one is. Everyone will live.

[2] You are alone, nevertheless you are not alone. You are losing your friends, you are obtaining them.

Oh, and a _gladius_ is a sword.


End file.
